


Jeeves Gives Notice

by fatal_drum



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: M/M, embezzlement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Jeeves, why do you put up with me?" In which Jeeves' motives are not as white as one might imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jeeves Gives Notice

Bertie had never been so glad, he thought, to sink wearily into the chesterfield, cigarette in one hand, brandy and soda in the other, and trusted valet to one side. He may have escaped auntly retribution by the skin of his teeth, but he shuddered to imagine what would have happened without a spot of Jeevesly assistance. Worthier men than Bertram had suffered the ravages of raging auntly beasts with nary a bowler-topped genius to assist.  
  
This conundrum put the young master in a downright philosophical mood, which prompted him to ask between sips of the needful, "Jeeves, why _do_ you put up with me?"  
There was a long pause, longer than it usually took for Jeeves to brandish his usual dismissals that one merely performed one's feudal duty. Wondering if his savior had shimmered noiselessly into the kitchen as he often did, Bertie looked up to find Jeeves exactly where he'd expected him to be. Only Jeeves was staring at him with an expression Bertie hadn't expected, hadn't even seen before - at least not on his valet. Jeeves' lips were curved in what Bertie first attempted to dismiss as a polite smile, but failed. The cast of the valet's eyes, the mocking curl of his mouth, did not approach civility; instead, they gave every indication of a cold smirk.  
  
"You won't like it, sir."  
  
"Nonsense, old thing. If it's kept your loyalty all these years, it must be a topping reason. Why else would I trust you so completely?"  
  
"Therein lies the problem, sir."  
  
"What the devil do you mean?"  
  
The smirk dropped from Jeeves' face, replaced with a look of outrage, and his voice rose uncharacteristically: "Don't you have the sense to know you're being robbed blind?"

Bertie goggled, choking on his drink. Jeeves continued undeterred.

"Your silly, useless trust... All these years, and you never learned the cost of anything. As long as you'd enough for spring suits and a day at the races, you couldn't be bothered to check the household budget. I nearly expired when I realized the figure your previous man set for household expenses. I could not credit my good _luck_!"

Jeeves did not look like a lucky man; he looked nearly sick with anger, his eyes narrowed to slits and his cheeks flushed with color. The whole impression was rather imposing, and it made Bertie's heart skip a beat or two.  
  
"I... I caught him pinching my good socks." Bertie stammered.  
  
"The embezzlement should have been obvious to a child. But not to you." Jeeves raked a hand through his dark hair, seemingly unconscious of the wild look it gave him. "Even as you continually raised my salary and gave me tips for this service or that, you never noticed. You really are that thick."  
  
"I - well, Jeeves -"  
  
 _"Shut it!_ " Jeeves shouted. "All these years, I've watched aunts, fiances, and so-called friends tread over you. You've no more sense of self-preservation than an ant!"  
  
Jeeves turned around, clenching his hands at either side and ignoring Bertie's stammered offer of a cigarette. Finally he  managed to take control of himself, though he took Bertie's brandy and soda and downed it without flinching.

"I wasn't going to tell you, of course. I planned to leave while you were safely in bed." Jeeves explained, wiping his mouth with one hand and somehow making it look the proper thing to do. " I suppose you'll need to be incapacitated. Don't think of shouting for help; I'll have you down before you can bat an eye."  
  
"You - you're leaving me?" Bertie asked in a low voice.  
  
"I can hardly stay in England when I've confessed to massive embezzlement." Jeeves scoffed. "I'm going where no extradition treaty will touch me, to be no man's servant for the rest of my natural life."  
  
"I... I see."  
  
Bertie looked at his hands, lacking other options. Unsurprisingly, they provided no answer as the silence weighed heavily in the air.  
  
Finally Jeeves said, "You aren't angry?"  
  
"No, Jeeves." Bertie said, and realized he wasn't. "You deserve it. More than I ever did, anyway."  
  
"You won't stop me, either. Will you." Jeeves watched Bertie shake his head, a strange expression on his face.  
  
"Idiot." Jeeves said, and pulled him to his feet by the collar. Before Bertie could make heads or tails or anything, he was being kissed hard, and with skill he would never have attributed to his erstwhile valet. Before he could react, he was released, forced to grasp the side table to stay upright.  
  
Jeeves recovered far more quickly, and his  hand was on the door handle before Bertie said, "Take me with you."  
  
"I - beg your pardon?"  
  
"Please. I - you know I'm bally well helpless without you."  
  
"Sir, I told you; I won't be anyone's servant now."  
  
"But - you could be my neighbor, couldn't you? Or my housemate, if I learned to do my share, or my - " Bertie scuffed his shoe on the hardwood floor. "My friend."  
  
"And what I just did - it makes no difference to you?"  
  
Bertie ran his tongue over his bottom lip where it still tingled. "Well - no. Only I wouldn't mind if you did it again."  
  
Jeeves swallowed, and his hand left the doorknob.  
  
"You have one hour to pack."  
  
Bertie grinned, feeling as if Christmas had come early and on his birthday, and Parliament had declared a moratorium on both aunts and fiancees.  
  
And so Jeeves led him to the bedroom, quietly ensuring that Bertie did not leave without socks or hats, but also taking a firm hand when Bertie suggested the style of dinner jackets might be much relaxed where they were going. Jeeves' hand found its way to the small of Bertie's back as he explained their travel arrangements, and Bertie wondered if he could look forward to more such gestures, a thought that made him swallow.  
  
Then another thought crossed his mind.  
  
"I suppose I can't go around calling you 'Jeeves' anymore, can I?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"And you can't be 'sir'-ing me anymore, either; it's not cricket. I shall have to think of a corking nickname for you, like Bingo or Catsmeat - "  
  
A shudder passed over Jeeves' face.  
  
"That won't be necessary. My given name will suffice: Reginald."  
  
"Of course I know your name. Reg." Bertie tried it out, and it felt bally good. "Reg. I like it."  
  
"Bertram," Jeeves offered in return.  
  
Bertie had never liked the sound of his Christian name, but coming from Jeeves... well, it wasn't so bad. He gave it a feeling others lacked - whether it was respect or some other emotion Bertie probably didn't deserve.  
  
Jeeves pulled out his pocket watch, frowning at the time. "We had best be going. You're - quite sure you wish to come?"  
  
Bertie lifted his two suitcases with a jaunty air. "No place I'd rather be, and all that."  
  
When Jeeves went to fetch his belongings, even Bertie couldn't miss that there were two tickets among them.

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot hope to match Wodehouse's style, so I gave up any pretense of writing in first person as Bertie. Also, there is no excuse for this bit of fluff.


End file.
